


You'd Be So Easy to Love

by biscuit_tin



Series: Bragging Rights, and Other Stories [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Homunculi, Kid Fic, Lost children, Meet-Cute, Parenthood, Series, a great deal of rain and a lot of confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-18 01:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuit_tin/pseuds/biscuit_tin
Summary: Major Maes Hughes stared in abject horror at the anxious nursery attendant who was trying, tearfully, to explain his son’s sudden disappearance.





	1. A Little Bit Doris Day...

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is taken from the song "You'd Be So Easy to Love" (I recommend the version performed by Billie Holiday & Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra, don't ask me how many times I've listened to that on repeat while working on this story).
> 
>  
> 
> That said, I have *A Playlist,TM* for this story - I may put it up on 8tracks after I post the second chapter if anyone is interested.

# Bragging Rights and Other Stories

## You'd Be So Easy to Love

She was returning to reopen the shop for the afternoon, after making her only delivery scheduled that day. She’d stopped by the baker’s on the way back for a fresh pain au raisin in lieu of a proper lunch. Holding the sack of pastries with one elbow and balancing the umbrella between her chin and shoulder, the woman rooted through her pocketbook searching for the keys to the shop. She nearly overbalanced and dropped everything in startlement when a small, solid object suddenly collided with her knees. 

The ‘object’ was in fact a little boy. He fell backwards into a puddle with a cry of surprise before she could reach out to prevent his tumble. The child hiccuped as he slowly looked up at her with tears leaking steadily from the corners of his wide, frightened green eyes. Dark curls were plastered close to his forehead in heavy, damp tendrils. The glasses he wore - slim, rectangular frames - had slipped to dangle haphazardly off of one earlobe. The poor thing looked thoroughly soaked and absolutely miserable. 

She crouched forward, holding the umbrella a bit higher to shield the both of them from the drizzle that had begun to swell into a downpour. Leaning on the balls of her feet, with the hem of her skirt tucked up behind her legs to keep it from trailing in the puddle, bags balanced between her knees and chest, the woman offered her free hand out to the boy, palm up. 

“I am so very sorry if I startled you, darling. Let me help you up - do you know where you last saw your mum and dad?” 

Instead of taking her hand, the child burst into sobs. 

“I - don-don’t have a Mummy! I want my Papa - I’ve looked and looked b-but I can’t find him _anywhere_!”

“Oh sweetheart,” she soothed, “I’m so sorry. That sounds terrible - shhhhhh… Don’t cry, darling, I know being lost can be scary. Why don’t you come in my shop here, with me, out of the rain? It’s warm inside; you look very cold. Please, let me help you dry off, and we can try and find your Papa together, alright? Shhhhh, please don’t cry.” 

As she’d continued to coax gently, the child’s tears had slowed. He finally drew in a deep, wet sniffle; the shopkeep winced when the boy scrubbed at his eyes ineffectually with muddied little fists and smudged his glasses as he straightened them on his nose. He nodded hesitantly when she asked him inside once again, and tentatively accepted the hand she still held out. His lip continued to tremble, but she finally brought the both of them to standing and lead the boy towards the door of the shop. Once inside, they trekked a wet, muddy path to the back counter, the woman flicking on lights here and there as they passed. 

More concerned with the state of the little one, she dumped her own things unceremoniously on one corner of her work surface and quickly fetched a dry towel from a clean stack beneath the counter. Kneeling in front of him, she held the towel up for the child to examine, smiling reassuringly. Now that he was properly standing, she could make out the embroidered patch of a familiar green emblem on the pocket of the sodden pullover he was wearing. 

“May I clean your face and glasses?” he nodded, sniffling piteously, now beginning to shiver miserably with chill. The shopkeep quickly snatched a second towel and pulled it snug around his little shoulders. “Will you tell me your name?” she asked and began to carefully wipe the dirt from his cheeks and from beneath his eyes. 

No longer actively crying, the boy chewed on his bottom lip, and replied shyly “I’m Harry Hughes, ma’am.” 

She smiled brightly and held out her hand to shake in greeting. “I’m Gracia Langballe. It’s so very nice to meet you, Mr. Hughes - you may call me Gracia, if you’d like?” 

Harry smiled, small and bashful. He took her hand without hesitation though, and his reply was cheerful enough for all that he’d been crying less than five minutes ago. “You can call me Harry!” The tears seemed to be at an end at last. 

“Of course - I shall, thank you Harry.” He was obviously too young for proper classes. Gracia was sure she’d heard some remark about the larger military offices providing daycare services for officer’s children a time or two. While thinking, her eyes drifted absently to follow the trail of small muddy footprints that meandered from Harry’s shoes all the way to the front door of the shop.

“Oops… I’m sorry, Miss Gracia.” The child was abashed, having followed her line of sight. She shook herself free of her woolgathering, and smiled in spite of the mess. 

“It’s quite alright dear, it won’t take but a moment to wipe up. Though… Harry - would you mind sitting on the counter for me a little while? We need to dry your clothes and standing on a cold floor barefoot will make you sick.” 

She waited patiently for him to consider her request, and after appearing to think it over, Harry lifted his arms to be picked up, smiling sweetly as he did so. 

“Okay!”

## ~*~

Major Maes Hughes stared in abject horror at the anxious nursery attendant who was trying, tearfully, to explain his son’s sudden disappearance. 

“And he just -“ She flapped her hand ineffectually, frustrated but unable to find the words, “- he was _there_ one moment and _gone_ the next! Just like that - quick as a flash. Corporal Meier was as baffled as any of us. He’d just been leaning over the wall to wave - say ‘hi!’ to the littles, and to Mary, of course - they’ve been dating, you know?”

She blew her nose into her handkerchief before continuing, voice thick. “It wasn’t just Harry - _all_ the little ones are spooked. No one knows what’s got them so frightened… Some of them keep going on about monsters stealing faces - goodness, Anne still hasn’t been settled.” She waved the limp handkerchief towards another minder who was attempting to comfort a weeping girl - walking back and forth with the young child in her arms in a far corner of the nursery. The woman who’d been explaining the situation stifled another sob. 

Maes stared down at the small lunchbox he’d been clutching between his hands ever since he’d come down to the nursery to have lunch with his son - and found the entire place in noisy disarray. Harry had vanished, and he had _just_ missed him by moments. 

Maes had, for the most part, ceased going out for his lunch hour. Harry had so sweetly, innocently, told the nursery minders that he was saving half of his lunch for his Papa, ‘because Papa only makes one!’ They’d been instantly charmed at the explanation, even as they’d fretted over not being able to get him to eat the rest. Maes’ heart had been full to bursting when he’d arrived to pick up his son that day and had been told about the incident. They’d made a special stop on the way home that very evening to pick out a new lunchbox for Maes - one with green and purple stripes that Harry had thought was very fetching - and from the next day forward, he always made sure to pack enough lunch for the both of them. 

He’d made one of Harry’s favorites today - roast chicken and tomato sandwiches with the crusts dutifully cut off. Lately Maes had been getting creative. He’d been reading magazines - there were _magazines_ \- about boxed lunches for inspiration. He’d been so pleased this morning when he’d successfully pieced together orange segments and slices of apple into a surprise for Harry; Maes was so sure his little boy would be tickled when he unwrapped it, and he’d intended to take pictures. He’d tucked a few of Harry’s favorite chocolate jam biscuits in the corners of the box as an extra special treat for Friday. 

It was now half past eleven and his sweet, thoughtful baby boy hadn’t even eaten yet. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the sides of the pack lunch more tightly. Harry was missing - had vanished - and was now lost, alone - certain to be terrified - and hungry. Visions of his son lying abandoned in a rainy back alley somewhere crowded Maes’s spiraling thoughts - 

A hand fell suddenly on one stiff shoulder, squeezing gently to gain his attention. His mounting panic stilled somewhat, and he was able to clear his mind enough to pay attention. 

“Major - _Maes_ , what on earth is the matter? Has something happened - where’s Harry?”

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye stood before her friend. She’d only meant to stop and bid hello to the Hughes’s, but had grown concerned when her inquiries had gone unanswered by the Major, and upon getting a glimpse of the dreadful expression on his face, was now beginning to fear for the worst. 

Her fears were confirmed when Maes met her gaze. 

“Riza, he’s _gone_.”

## ~*~

Gracia gathered two more of the towels she’d spread out to warm next to the space heater as she returned to Harry with two mugs of hot, sweetened tea. She set them down by the child and unwrapped the package of pain au raisin, bidding a silent thanks for the kind baker that included an extra pastry in her order as a gift. She set one over the top of each mug to let the steam warm them up. Harry was bouncing his heels distractedly on the cabinetry as he peered about her shop with interest. 

“The flowers are so pretty! Did you grow them all?” Gracia smiled as she bundled him up with one freshly warm towel, and began to dry his hair vigorously with the second.

“Not all, no. Most of the ones in my shop I have to order from special farms or hothouses that are far away, because those flowers don’t grow well around Central. I _do_ grow some of them in a small garden behind the shop though. See there?” She pointed to bunches of feverfew and lavender hanging nearby to dry from rungs over the worktop. “I sell herbs like that - dried or fresh depending - to restaurants or home cooks and the like."

Harry goggled from beneath the towel at this new information. When she finally pulled the towel away Gracia had to stifle a laugh. What with all the fluffy hair sticking out every which way and with his eyes so wide with curiosity, Harry resembled nothing so much as a troublesome kitten. She rang out the towels over the basin and began setting them out to dry again. 

“Uncle Roy has leaves and flowers like that at his house, but he doesn’t put them in the kitchen.” he said doubtfully. 

Gracia looked over her shoulder as she continued her task. 

“Is your uncle an alchemist, then?” Harry’s assent was effusive. 

“Uncle Roy makes _fire_ \- only, he says it’s not really making, because all the bits he makes it with are already in the air. Sometimes he says he’s going to melt all of Papa’s cameras, but he never does it. I think Miss Riza will yell at him if he melts things without permission.” 

Gracia nodded seriously. “It’s good he doesn’t then - I’m sure your Papa would be sad if his cameras were ruined. Does your Papa take pictures for work, or does he work as an alchemist with your Uncle Roy?” 

Harry shook his head emphatically, upsetting the glasses perched on his nose. “Papa doesn’t do things like Uncle Roy. But that’s okay, because Papa can make the best sandwiches! _And_ he fixed Padwolf when his eye came off. Now he has two _different_ eyes, just like the doggie we saw at the park. Uncle Roy isn’t good at making sandwiches.” Harry wrinkled his nose with distaste. “Or eggs.” Harry’s face grew worried. “Don’t tell Papa that Uncle Roy just gets food on the telephone when I visit him…”

Ah, the candor of children. 

“I shan’t say a word about it, I promise.” She swore solemnly.

Harry continued. “My Papa is the best! Know how I know? ‘Cause he picked to be my Papa, because he said he wanted to - he reads me stories, and he sings to me sometimes.” 

Harry waved his hand at Gracia for her to lean in, and so she did, proffering her ear in confidence. He cupped his hands around his mouth to whisper. “I asked, and my Papa said he would even sing to me if I was _big_ and not little anymore!” The boy threw out his arms and fell back against the backsplash of the counter with a happy sigh. Gracia feared that he would do himself an injury by hitting his head on the tile. 

“Papa’s the _best_.”

Gracia chuckled and drew the child back up into a sitting position, reassuring herself that he was unharmed. “He sounds like an excellent Papa, Harry.” He seemed about to extol more virtues, but was overtaken by a watery sneeze. Gracia snatched up a tissue and held it out obligingly.

“Oh dear - quick, blow your nose darling.” Harry pouted, but did as bid anyway. Gracia’s own nose tickled a bit as she perceived the scent of cinnamon, and she checked to see that their makeshift lunch was warmed, and the mugs of tea somewhat cooler. Both of their stomaches chose that moment to growl out in complaint, and they looked at one another, startled. Harry began to giggle, and Gracia followed him into joyful laughter.

Still chuckling a bit, she carefully passed one of the mugs to the boy with a napkin for the pastry. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper lunch today. You can drink your tea now, but blow on it a little if it’s still too warm, alright?” 

Harry tested his drink, then dipped one end of the sweet bread in his tea and began to nibble on it. They were quiet while they ate - Gracia finished her own repast quickly and began to search out a pen and pad of paper one-handed as she sipped on her own brew. 

“Now - you said your last name is Hughes, is that right?” He nodded vigorously, nearly sloshing his tea.

“Uh huh - My name is Harry Hughes and I’m _three_.” He held up three fingers to make his point. “Papa says it’s okay for me to tell people that, but that I shouldn’t ask them how old _they_ are, because it’s not nice.” Harry tilted his head as a thought occurred to him. “Have you ever met my Papa, Miss Gracia?”

She smiled a little wistfully and shook her head. “I’m sorry Harry, I’ve never had that pleasure -“ 

“Do you want to?” He interrupted her, eyes glinting mischievously from behind his lenses. 

She blinked, somewhat nonplussed. “Ah - well! We can’t meet with anyone unless we get in touch with them first.” She cleared her throat. “Alright - I have a telephone, but I need to ask you a few questions before I dial the operator…” 

Harry hummed behind his mug of tea as she began.

## ~*~

A phone sitting on a desk rang out in an otherwise silent office.

On any other day, the office was full of background noise - shifting paper where someone was flipping back and forth between translations of intercepted information as they checked their work, occasional distracted pen-tapping, and the gentle susurration of murmuring voices. 

This Friday, however, every able body save one had been conscripted in the desperate search for the son of their division’s supervisor. Just now, they were checking dark corners and hallways, spare cabinets, and overgrown bushes for the lost little boy. 

The one member of the office team who had been left behind to answer the phones had made an untimely mistake: he’d eaten the stroganoff in the canteen for lunch. 

He had retreated to the lavatory over twenty minutes prior, and was, even now, coming to regret a great many of his recent nutritional choices.

Of course, Major Hughes had chosen well when he’d appointed the beleaguered officer to attend the phones. The poor man _had_ had the forethought to make a hurried call down to the switchboard and ask the operators to redirect all the phone calls to another office in Investigations across the hall. 

It was a very bad turn of fortune that the message had been lost in the daily shift-change at noon.

The phone went unanswered, and the line disconnected after the customary seven rings. 

So it was that through an unfortunate set of circumstances, a very important phone call which would have brought a swift, happy resolution (and would have saved a great deal of trouble for the entire facility all around) to the search for the missing child went unanswered.

Meanwhile, in another wing of Central Headquarters, an anxious father, a recently promoted Colonel, and the Colonel’s talented aide were pouring over a map of the property grounds and surrounding streets just beyond the wall - frantically trying to determine just how far a toddler could accidentally apparate himself without injury. 


	2. A Dash of Gene Kelly...

# Bragging Rights and Other Stories

 

 

## You'd Be So Easy to Love

 

 

 

Gracia hung up the phone for the final time, troubled. As she rotated Harry’s shoes by the heater, she considered her options. Her second call hadn’t even made a connection through the switchboard. Gracia was very unimpressed with the snitty operator - assuming she was some Colonel’s jilted girlfriend when she’d tried to inquire about any names registered as ‘Roy’ or ‘Riza’ who worked in the same office. Very unprofessional, indeed. And to not even _attempt_ to do some fact-checking when there was a missing child involved? Harry’s father must be frantic by now, poor man.

 At least she had an identity for _him_ to go on - when she’d spoken to the first operator she’d been put through to an office for a ‘Major Hughes’. Interpreting the helpfully meant directions given by a toddler was a trial, no matter how cooperative Harry had been. Gracia felt she’d done rather well - and, limited as some of his information was (namely the lack of last names aside from his own), it couldn’t be _that_ difficult to get a little assistance on the directory line with what she _did_ have available. Why weren’t the phone operators on alert for information on Harry Hughes’s whereabouts, anyway?

  _Well._ Never mind, then; she peered out the windows of the shop. The storm wasn’t a gale, but the rain had continued to fall in fat, steady drops for the last hour. It didn’t look to be letting up anytime soon. This was the sort of weather that kept people indoors on weekends. The likelihood that she was going to receive any customers was slim at best.

 She had considered, for perhaps thirty seconds, calling the M.P.’s. Passing Harry into their care might well have been the sensible choice, but… Neither her conscience, nor her heart, would allow that. She would never know for certain one way or the other if he were ever united with his father, were Gracia to do so. She worried that Harry wouldn’t understand enough _not_ to be frightened if an unknown officer took him away now.

 And then there was another matter to consider: that there very well may be some unsavory character responsible for little Harry’s disappearance in the first place. Asking the child how he had gotten lost to begin with had yielded very little concrete information, but what he had told her - that there had been a very scary man who’d tried to touch him, and that he’d run very far away - made her intensely thankful she’d been out in that rain. He was such a dear child, the thought that anyone with ill intentions might be out looking for him, even now, made her shudder. And - perhaps Gracia was allowing her imagination to run away with itself, but she just couldn’t shake the little fear that blossomed in her stomach at the thought that that very person might, possibly, be the one who responded to her call to come for the child.

  _Good gracious_ , best not to even entertain the _thought_!

 There really was no other option left but to march up there herself with the boy and see what was to be done. Mind made up, Gracia clapped her hands together, exclaiming as she did so.

 “Alright then! Harry, since your Papa doesn’t know how to find my shop, you and I are going to go out there and find _him_ instead.” She tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. “Or your Miss Riza or Uncle Roy, I suppose. Do you think you can help me spot them, dear?”

 Harry thought this over carefully, bottom lip poking out as he pursed his lips. Finally he shared with her the foremost worry on his mind:

 “What if the scary man comes back and sees us? He might scare you too - I don’t want him to get me…”

 “Well,” she stated slowly, “This person has never seen me before. However - I bet we can give you a disguise!”

 “What’s a disguise?” he sounded out the unfamiliar word slowly.

 “They’re clothes that keep you hidden - sometimes by pretending to be someone else.” she explained. “You’ll hide yourself by dressing in something very different from what you were wearing before - _you’ll_ know, and _I’ll_ know, but that man you saw won’t have a clue.”

 She certainly wasn’t fool enough to think she could reasonably conceal the child from some predator of course - but if dressing the boy up helped Harry feel more secure and comfortable with the idea of going out, then that was what she would do.

 “Wait here a tick, I think I have _just_ the thing!” Gracia stepped back into the small office and dug through the boxes packed into her narrow supply cabinet. Finally finding what she’d been looking for in the bottom of one box, she returned to the front counter with an oversized oilskin rain hat in hand.

 “What do you think?” She put the hat on her own head, turning this way and that as she modeled it for Harry and pulled mock-serious expressions on her face. “Do I look dashing?” He burst into giggles.

 “You look very silly!”

 Smiling, Gracia took the hat off and dropped it onto the boy’s head, tying the flaps snuggly beneath his chin; after a moment’s thought, she also pulled the towel draped over his shoulders more firmly around him and tied two of the ends together across his chest. Last, she tugged the brim of the hat just a bit lower to conceal his eyes and smoothed some of the errant flyaways of his hair back beneath the crown of the cap. Gracia stood back with her hands on her hips, nodding to herself as she scrutinized the results of her handiwork.

 “There!” She declared finally, “Now we have a disguise - no one can see your face or your clothes.” She fetched her handbag and soon enough she produced a mirror compact and opened it. “Have a look, dear. How’s this?”

 The child’s eyes were wide and astonished; he looked his fill in the mirror she’d passed to him.

 “You made me a _cape_.” His voice was reverent.

 She nodded seriously.

 “I did - is that alright?”

 His expression blossomed into a wide, delighted grin.

 “It’s amazing! I’ve _never_ had a cape before - can I spin it?”

 Gracia laughed then and returned to the space heater to fetch Harry’s dried socks and mostly dried shoes. The sweater was, unfortunately, still soggy.

 “Let’s get your socks back on first, and then you can spin your cape. After that we really must go and find your Papa, alright Harry?”

 Harry whooped enthusiastically.

 

## ~*~

 They were going to have to expand the parameters of their search to include the surrounding city streets. They’d just passed the 13:00 mark; Harry had been missing for over two hours.

 After his initial shock had worn off, Major Hughes had mobilized his small office team. Every office in the building, if not actively involved in the search for the little boy, had pictures of him and were on alert. Colonel Mustang was overseeing the search, and keeping a surreptitious eye on the Major, who was even now fretting anxiously in Roy’s office. Only the knowledge that it was better to stay in one location in case of Harry finding his way back kept Maes from combing the city streets on his own. He was climbing the walls as it was, and Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye could not say for sure that the poor man would stay put much longer.

 Over a third of Central’s staff had been roped into the search - no nook, cranny or vaguely concealed outcropping or statue had been left unexamined. And still, there had been no sign of the child.

 Riza stepped out of the office to pass along the instructions to increase the search radius. She was just about to send off a waiting Warrant Officer to alert the outdoor teams and bring back another map, when a young Corporal came jogging up the corridor - winded - to meet her with a sloppy salute.

 “Lieutenant!” he wheezed, “Just now, at the gates - there’s a civilian who brought a little boy up. We need to get an I.D. on ’im, but -”

 Riza nodded sharply and turned to the Warrant Officer.

 “Hold off on those orders for now. Major Hughes and Colonel Mustang are in the office, you will alert them immediately.”

 He saluted and strode quickly into the front office as she turned to the out-of-shape Corporal.

 “Lead the way.” He nodded, about-faced and proceeded her out into the rainy courtyard towards the salle located just left of the main gates.

 The Corporal held open the door, this time offering a tidier salute as he did so. Riza gave him a curt nod as she entered the building; she barely spared any time shaking the rain off her coat, and only paid the attending officer behind the desk a cursory glance in her haste to the waiting room.

 Peering around the door, Riza’s shoulders sagged in relief at the sight which greeted her there. Seated in a waiting chair in one corner of the austere room was a woman - and Harry with her, settled on her lap. The boy was dressed very strangely, what with an old rain cap dangling around the back of his neck and a towel tied around his shoulders - but it _was_ Harry. Safe, whole (barring a quick physical check), and apparently quite happy with his current companion. The as-yet unknown woman was keeping the child occupied by teaching him a song about spiders, wiggling her fingers as if they were dancing spider legs and threatening to tickle him. Harry’s familiar laughter rang out, and Riza smiled for the first time that afternoon, fiercely relieved.

 “It’s him.” she breathed out as she turned to the Corporal who had followed her in, “We can call off the search, Please pass along the all clear to our office.”

 The Corporal’s shoulders relaxed as well and he smiled, nodded, and left to do as bidden. Riza hurried over to the pair in the room, calling out to get their attention.

 “Harry!”

 They stopped their game at her call and looked up together.

 “Miss Riza!” Harry waved enthusiastically with both hands, bouncing on the poor woman’s lap, who smiled up at Riza as she stopped in front of them. She stood, moving Harry to balance on one hip.

 Still smiling with relief, Riza gently cupped Harry’s cheeks between her palms to examine him. Seeing he truly appeared to be well, she ruffled his hair affectionately. She looked the boy’s fortuitous minder in the eye.

 “ _Thank you_. I know his father will want to tell you so himself, but we’ve been worried sick since he disappeared. Who -?”

 “Oh -“ She set down the bags she’d been shouldering in the now abandoned chair, switched Harry around to the other hip and held out her freed hand to shake. “- Gracia Langballe. Please call me Gracia. It’s a pleasure to meet you - Harry has spoken of little else, save his Papa and Uncle.”

 Riza chuckled warmly. “I’m flattered - Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and do call me Riza. Thank you again, truly. We’ve been at loose-ends trying to find him. Where on earth was he when you found him, anyway?”

 Gracia looked at the boy and winked. “We ran into one another quite by accident, didn’t we? I was just returning to my shop to reopen for the afternoon -“

 “Miss Gracia grows _flowers_!” Harry interjected helpfully, hugging himself close to the woman’s side. “I was _soooo_ scared, but Miss Gracia helped me! We had tea and rolls for lunch, they were sweet - and we came to find Papa and you and Uncle Roy, because Miss Gracia said you couldn’t come to find us.”

 “I hope everything’s well? I’m not sure how Harry made it so far, but my shop is half an hour’s walk towards Southgate. He was soaked through.”

 Riza shook her head in disbelief. “We’ve been combing the grounds. We were just preparing to extend the search into the city when you arrived, but it likely would have been another two hours, at least, before we expanded our search that far.”

 Gracia’s expression was a bit weary. “I _did_ try calling up to the operators, but the first call was never picked up and the second -“ Her expression grew rather consternated, “- well. I only had first names to go by, and the operator assumed I was some Colonel or other’s ex-girlfriend. I know it would have been safer to stay put, but I really wasn’t sure how else to reach out to you…” Gracia’s smile dropped entirely, face overtaken by true concern.

A vein throbbed in Riza’s temple, but she refrained from disparaging either Roy or the operators in front of Gracia. Outwardly, she only nodded in sympathy.

 “I hope you were able to catch the person responsible, at least?”

 Riza’s eyes narrowed. “Who do you mean?” Gracia cuddled the boy closer as she fretted.

 “Does that mean no one saw the person who tried to snatch him? Has no one said anything?”

 Riza grew alarmed. “The children in the nursery were all frightened, but none of the minders saw anyone suspicious -”

 “The scary man asked if he could touch my face and I got scared and I ran away.” Harry put in.

 Riza stiffened. “He _what_.”

 Harry nodded, solemn. “I’m sorry Miss Riza, he was scary…” She blinked and tried to preempt any distress over her anger.

 “Ah - no, Harry, don’t be sorry - you definitely did the right thing, to get away, just -” Before Riza could say anything, or inquire more thoroughly, her ears caught the sound of several pairs of booted feet pounding heavily on the stone walkway. Riza turned halfway, keeping one hand on her sidearm and her body between the door and Gracia and Harry, but her concerns were unfounded. Maes Hughes came barreling through the doorway suddenly, sans jacket and soaking wet. He barely paused long enough for a glimpse of his son’s location as he rushed into the room.

 “ **Harry**!” his shout was equal parts desperation and relief as he hurried to his son. Harry’s joyous reply of “ _Papa!_ ” was nearly lost beneath Maes’ crushing hug. The man was near to tearsas he kissed first the top of Harry’s head, and then the boy’s cheek; his voice was thick with emotion all the while.

 “Oh - my darling I was so worried! You vanished and Papa was so frightened, we’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you -“ he snuggled his son closer, tucking the boy’s head under his chin as he hugged him tightly and exhaled an enormous sigh. “- you scared the _life_ out of me, Harry… my heart can’t take it!”

 Harry wiggled a bit, trying to loosen his father’s grip somewhat. The most he managed to free was an arm, and he reached to pat at Maes’ cheek in a conciliatory gesture.

 “It’s okay, Papa - Miss Gracia helped me.” Maes blinked and leaned back enough to look Harry in the face.

 “Who?”

 “Oh my - that, ah, would be me.” The voice came out as a breathless squeak. It was close to Maes’ ear and he turned his head only to come nose to nose with a pair of eyes much like Harry’s own, framed in fair lashes beneath soft, ash-blonde fringe.

 Harry was not the only person to have been swept up in Maes’ enthusiastic, heartfelt embrace.

 “Oh - oh my god. I am so - _I’m_ _so_ _sorry_.”

 “Papa! You’re _supposed_ to shake hands first, hugs are for later. You _said_ so.”

 “Yes - yes I absolutely said that. That’s right -“ Maes began to carefully unwrap his arms, but when he made to pull his head away, the hinge on one arm of his traitorous glasses caught and pulled some of the poor woman’s hair.

 “Ah! Oh no, hold on -“ she stopped him, wincing, and Maes tried to disconnect them as she held onto Harry more securely.

 “I really am sorry - oh, just a moment, I - I’ve just about got it -” he stammered as he continued to fumble with the glasses frames and her hair in the attempt to disentangle them, albeit gently.

 As Maes and Gracia attempted to separate themselves, Roy - who had been right on Maes’ heels, and had stopped to observe the reunion, spoke up next to Riza.

 “He’s an idiot.”

 “Absolutely, Colonel.” Riza agreed blandly. She turned to look at him, and in a lower voice related to him her earlier interrupted conversation. Roy’s face hardened.

 “We’ll keep the teams out - redirect the search. I’ll speak to Maes about it this evening, but if we haven’t heard anything about it by now, I’m not sure how likely it is we’ll find them out.”

 “And the operator’s instructions about directing your _calls_ , _sir_?” she inquired.

 “Well it’s not as if it was ever a problem _before_ …” Roy muttered under his breath. Riza sighed.

 While watching Maes, and the poor woman he was stuck to, work to free themselves, Roy had a sudden thought. He turned and caught the eye of one obliging aide from Hughes’s department, waving her over. He whispered some quick directions in her ear, pointing towards the Major and slipping her a banknote. She began snapping pictures with the camera hanging around her neck.

 “Sir, _what are you doing_?” the Lieutenant hissed. Roy only put a finger to his lips.

 Maes stood back finally, straightening his glasses after finally freeing them both. He flushed with embarrassment and reached out to take his son, cuddling the boy close.

 “Are you alright? I can’t belie - I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t -“

 Gracia smiled helplessly, and waved away his concerns.

 “It’s alright - _really_ , it **is**. I cannot _begin_ to imagine how awful this whole mess was for you - of course you’re relieved!”

 Harry hugged Maes around the neck and, very matter of factly, stated, “I told her that your hugs were the nicest. Papa gives good hugs - right, Miss Gracia?”

 The flush in her own cheeks grew brighter. “Oh - yes dear, you did.” Maes, still blushing himself, laughed helplessly into his child’s hair, his nerves soothed somewhat as he breathed in his son’s scent. He straightened then, and with an embarrassed grin held out one hand for the woman to take.

 “Major Maes Hughes at your service. I do mean that, by the way - I owe you a debt of gratitude I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay.” He squeezed her hand gently as they shook.

 “Gracia Langballe. You don’t owe me a thing, Major. Harry is a lovely boy, and I’m just so relieved for the both of you.” They continued to look at one another, and only relinquished each other’s hand reluctantly. Harry tugged on Maes’ sleeve.

 “Papa, isn’t Miss Gracia nice?”

 “She’s very nice. Ah!” Maes choked, realizing what he’d said. He glanced down at his three year old son who was looking nearly as smug as a cat. He was going to have to find a new babysitter, he realized. Harry was spending to much time with Roy, clearly. Maes’ stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and he winced.

 “Please excuse me - I haven’t had anything to eat yet, so…”

 Gracia blushed again.

 “If you’d like - I made Harry a cup of tea and pastry earlier, but it wasn’t much…”

 “Oh, you fed him? Thank you! He vanished just before lunch -“

 Gracia huffed an exasperated laugh. She drew in a deep breath, settling herself, to ask:

 “Major - Mr. Hughes. Would you like to have lunch - if you don’t have to return to work, right away?”

 Maes swallowed nervously.

 “Ah, no- I mean _yes_. Yes I would like to, and no I don’t have to return to work - but, only if you’ll let me buy? It really is the least I can do, after all the trouble you’ve gone to today.”

 Gracia nodded, smiling. “Okay.”

 “ _Finally_!” Harry burst out. Gracia blinked and Maes looked down at his son, taken aback.

 “What’s the matter, Harry?” Harry gave his father the most put-upon look Maes had ever seen on the child’s face.

 “Miss Gracia is _nice_. She made me a _cape_. You should bring her to visit at home and make her lunch boxes too, because she only had rolls, even if they _were_ very good.” He added, glancing apologetically at her. He looked back up at his father with a stern little pout. “Just don’t give her kisses until after dinner. It’s not polite.” Maes’ face went pale.

 “You’re too young to know any of that! Roy! What have you been teaching my son?!”

 “Oh dear.” Gracia bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the poor man’s distress.

 Meanwhile, the investigations assistant passed a full roll of film over to the Colonel, carefully sealed into its protective canister. Roy intended to keep it in his desk at home - perhaps it was premature, but he had a whisper of a feeling that this woman would become a permanent fixture in his friend’s life.

 And if there _were_ nuptials in their future, he was determined to get his own back. Roy would pass out innumerable copies of that flailing moron to every guest at the reception - he was overdue some payback.

 

 

## ~*~

 Deep beneath Central Headquarters, further than any search for the missing Harry Hughes would have reasonably reached, was a cavernous room. Tangled piping stretched from its center and branched outwards into uncounted directions beyond, running into the ground. Seated on one large, dusty pipe was another boy with dark hair and wide eyes, surrounded by shifting shadows. The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he turned to greet the visitor.

 “Oh my… I hear they’re all fit to be tied, looking for some pedophile who tried to snatch a little boy…”

 From the shadows crowding the walls, the figure of Corporal Meier stepped forth - or so it appeared. In a flash of crackling red alchemical energy, the visage of the Corporal melted into a slighter figure with strikingly androgynous features. Thin lips stretched into a snarl, exposing inhumanly sharp teeth. They slunk forward into the room with an air of petulance.

 The apparent child continued snidely. “Seems as if I’m going to have to be on my guard around you from now on, little brother - lest you attempt to steal me away one of these days too. Oh whatever shall I do?” He grinned cheekily.

 The shapeshifting creature occasionally known as Envy ground their teeth together in annoyance, and bit out, “I’m not some pedo-creep -”

 “Then _what_ , pray, were you _doing_?” Pride’s false grin had dropped, his face growing cold and expressionless.

 Envy grimaced.

 “ _He’s_ been having me run errands back and forth upstairs for months now. I know _you_ probably don’t feel it, stuck down here in this pit, but…”

 Pride’s eyes narrowed. “But…?”

 “ _We-ell_ …” Envy teased, being coy with their information mostly out of spite. Their companion had run out of patience, however; He lashed out. Shadows bent and coiled into a curved, wicked edge which he wrapped around Envy’s neck threateningly.

 “You _know_ young children are somewhat sensitive. We avoid them for a _reason_ \- you could have exposed yourself! Do not think that you are above His displeasure. Now: **tell me**.”

 A vein pulsed over Envy’s temple, even as they attempted to maintain an unaffected air and set their shaking hands firmly on their hips. They attempted to shrug nonchalantly, but the shadows were wound too close about their neck to move without slitting their throat.

 “Fine, then - I was getting to the point.” Pride slowly loosened his grip from around Envy’s throat and allowed the shadows to dissipate as they told their tale.

 “So. I’ve been feeling something _interesting_ whenever I’ve been near the creche upstairs -”

 “That doesn’t make you sound any _less_ like a creep, you know.” Pride interjected snippily. Envy sniffed, but continued.

 “ _Anyway_ \- I’ve _also_ felt it occasionally around the investigations wing, usually just before or after office hours. It’s not overwhelming, probably why none of the rest of you seem to have noticed it - it’s small, but it feels familiar. It’s been niggling at me for _weeks_ \- like an irritating little gnat.”

 Pride’s expression sharpened with interest. Envy began gesturing carelessly with one hand as they spoke, hip cocked at an angle.

 “So, when I sensed it today, I followed, and the feeling led me all the way to one of the ickle babies. Turns out there’s something weird with that Hughes kid - who’s old man works in investigations, by the way.”

 Pride hummed thoughtfully.

 “Another homunculus, perhaps? But - surely, even if he was created in a different country we would have felt the cataclysm. Or - news would have trickled in, eventually - wouldn’t it? With that sort of destruction, some notice would have been unavoidable…”

 Envy scratched the back of their neck, lips pursed.

 “I didn’t get much of a proper look… the brat popped off before I could get a good feel, of course. But - he didn’t feel like a homunculus, exactly. More like…” They tilted their head, searching for the right words. “Ah! He felt like he was carrying around his own stone!” Envy tapped their forehead. “There’s a scar on the kid’s head, just here. The feeling was very small, though.”

 Pride set his chin on one fist, leaning his elbows on his knees as he thought.

 “I wonder if we _should_ just take him then - could it be that someone’s noticed and has sent the child as a means to divert our work to their own ends?” he mused. “Or - perhaps the humans have been experimenting… you said it felt like a very small stone, and we never did reclaim all those fragments used in the desert…”

 Envy shrugged noncommittally, but their eyes gleamed with a cruel light.

 “Would really be something if those stupid apes started hiding precious stones inside their own midgets, wouldn’t it?”

 Pride wrinkled his nose, but before he could reply a well of deep power flooded past the two homunculi, quieting their discussion. It rolled upwards as a thick swell while red light sizzled in a halo along the myriad piping.

 They observed silently, waiting as Father reached up and up with his power, seeking. After some minutes had passed the stretching power suddenly faded, having found its target and explored it carefully before dissipating. From the shadowed dais at the center of the endless coil of pipes he spoke, voice distracted, as if he were observing something far in the distance.

 “The child does possess something like a stone… He is inconsequential. Too young to be of use as a sacrifice when the fated day is upon us. Do not concern yourself with the boy unless he becomes a nuisance.”

 Pride straightened and nodded. “Of course, Father.”

 Envy looked put out, but nodded in grudging assent.

 Nothing more was said as Father slowly shuffled various pieces around on the marble strategy table; the only sound aside from a distant dripping in the yawning room was the soft slide and click of stone on stone.

 He spoke again, voice mild as milk. “You will see that Mustang is placed elsewhere until either the time comes to make use of him, or another sacrifice takes his place - in which case you may eliminate him. He is rather too clever, it would not do to keep him in Central after today.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

 Pride bowed once at the waist. “I will speak to Wrath.” He faded into the shadows.

 Envy snorted derisively, but continued to wait.

 “Go to Lust.” Father directed absently, “She will relocate to the desert soon. You will assist her there a while.”

 Envy nodded and left without any parting comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own part or parcel of Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter, or any of their affiliated companies.
> 
> Please read and review. 
> 
> Oh goodness, some actual plot!
> 
> These stories have been getting longer - I really only meant for this to be a series of short one-shots. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented, subscribed, bookmarked, and liked these stories so far! I'm so, so glad that you've been enjoying this. ;_;


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